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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331174">Approved Methods</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny'>jenni3penny</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCIS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 01:02:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331174</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack isn’t the only one who has a tried and true way of doing things...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Approved Methods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He watched her silently from her office doorway, purposely not interrupting her while she was distracted. The way her wrist hovered bent over her cheek while she put on eyeliner had him suddenly weaker than he would have expected. The delicate femininity of the movement was something that he hadn’t enjoyed in a long while and he held still, not wanting to interrupt it. The sensuality of the moment was familiar but he just hadn't had the pleasure of watching it on any woman in… maybe years? Let alone <em>this</em> woman? His shoulder pressed against the frame and he exhaled slowly, her hand lowering before she half turned her head from the mirror on her desk.</p>
<p>Her eyes stayed on her reflection but her voice was definitely directed at him. “Need something?”</p>
<p>“Have you been following the Bilson case?”</p>
<p>“Not closely.” Her face paled apologetically while she capped the eyeliner pencil and she gave him one sheepish glance before looking back to the mirror. “I’ve been distracted.”</p>
<p>Yeah, he had noticed.</p>
<p>It wasn’t at all like her to be detached or blasé in regards to case work but she had been both physically and emotionally vacant. Two days before she had gotten a phone message handed to her while they had been reviewing a case in the squad room and it had utterly wrecked her attention span since. It hadn’t really been his place to mention it but now curiosity was tugging at his sleeve and he frowned slightly, half lifting the case file.</p>
<p>“Can I get you to look at it this afternoon? Team needs a fresh perspective. Banging our heads against walls.”</p>
<p>“I won’t be able to get to it until tonight, I’m sorry.” At least she looked legitimately apologetic, face falling as she met his eyes.</p>
<p>Christ, she was beautiful, the dark makeup just subtly enhancing the burnt whiskey brown of her eyes. Her lips were set even but not curved, no smile to tie them closer together, no warmth or flush to her skin.</p>
<p>He hated the idea that maybe she was saving those things for someone else but his brain teased him with the idea, taunted him with how lovely she looked.</p>
<p>“Hot date?”</p>
<p>“What a <em>tone</em>, Agent Gibbs,” Jack accused, head drawn back. Her eyes darkened after a breath. “Funeral mass at Saint Ann’s this afternoon.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t… Condolences," he offered with slight surprise, his voice losing its gruffness, softening as he looked her over again. Hair perfectly waved and curled, black dress immaculate and form fitting, heels and makeup - she was so classically beautiful to him that he had only registered the fit of the dress and not the somber color.</p>
<p>Jealousy has clouded his judgment. He had made an assumption rather than just a plain observation and that realization made him twice as uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“Hmm," came off her as she studied his face, no doubt seeing him start to squirm a little. "Apology accepted.”</p>
<p>Gibbs ignored her tone, jaw nudging upward. "Anyone I know?"</p>
<p>"I doubt it," she murmured, twisting a half folded newspaper around and in his direction, tapping just above the photo of a beautiful young woman. Younger than both of them and wearing a sad smile in the back and white newspaper print, her name swam small but dark beneath the image.</p>
<p>"Adele Anshiri?"</p>
<p>He lifted his eyes without turning up his head, a brow coming up as she avoided meeting his glance. Instead she lifted her pinky, once again looking at the mirror while unnecessarily fixing a smudge in her makeup that didn't actually exist. The surname was familiar enough, just esoteric enough to stand out to him as she avoided meeting his eyes with hers.</p>
<p>Gibbs sat slowly, quietly and purposely making a show of not leaving her office. He laid the case file over top of the face that was staring up at them from the paper, his body relaxing into the chair while he waited her out. He sank in low, resting his shoulders as she glossed her lips instead of explaining any further. He watched her, studied her mouth as she applied her makeup, breathing through his nose. That same calmness overcame him as he watched her, washing against him like a rising tide. His breath sank back out of him slowly.</p>
<p>"Wife or sister?" The question was purposely quiet, breathed between them as she licked at her bottom lip. "Sloane?"</p>
<p>"She was his wife. They had a little girl."</p>
<p>He felt the words land hard in his chest, felt them hollow out the center of him and burrow deep. The pain in them radiated outward from the center of him, making his hands flex closed. A familiar sadness swelled outward and weighed him down in the chair, held him still and low while he met her eyes across the desk. She had finally stopped avoiding his glance.</p>
<p>Her eyes were so beautiful.</p>
<p>It was always when he looked at her eyes that he wished he had met her a decade or so sooner.</p>
<p>"Want a friend?" he offered simply.</p>
<p>She seemed to really consider it, head tipping as her eyebrows rose slightly in pleased surprise. He felt her hesitate, felt her half shrug as she leaned forward and shook her head. The negation was silent but she seemed sorry to make it while she met his eyes. Gibbs smiled anyhow, nodding without any other response. Nothing else really seemed necessary.</p>
<p>"Come by when you're done."</p>
<p>"Gibbs," she murmured, watching him stand and press away from the desk. His fingers brushed the file he had left, tapping it twice with two fingers to deny her any chance of turning him down.</p>
<p>"I mean it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By seven that night he'd assumed that he'd been ignored, that she had disregarded his tone and bluster and just gone home after. And he hadn't pushed, hadn't called or texted (not that he texted all that often, but… he <em>had</em> learned). So he was slightly surprised when he heard the knock, its soft reticence almost uncharacteristic of the woman who had literally blown through the door the first time she'd put herself in front of it.</p>
<p>"Yeah," he called out, dumping the book he was reading aside. One look out the broad front windows proved it was her, the Mini tucked into his driveway like a little Matchbox car. "I'm comin'."</p>
<p>All that perfectly applied and curated makeup was messed to hell but… She was still just as beautiful in the smudged early darkness of a winter night as she had been that afternoon. She'd loosely tied back the waves of her hair and she had that soft camel overcoat he loved cinched tightly around her. She sniffed at him in place of saying anything, used the heel of her palm to rub just under her right eye. Both were rimmed with red and edged with real indomitable sadness, almost wounded by it.</p>
<p>Sadness and very visible guilt.</p>
<p>At least that was something he could identify with, that survivor's guilt.</p>
<p>"I should have let you come with me," she admitted, shrugging it while she stuffed her hands even deeper into her coat pockets. She was still distant, still reserved even as she stood at his doorway.</p>
<p>He didn't move at first, surveying her like she was a skittish animal, watching her fidget slightly before she finally lifted a hand out and reached for him on her own. It was a painfully slow movement, one that gave him plenty of time to brush her off if he wanted. Not that he ever would. Not at this point, not when she was actively trying to connect. He caught her wrist as her fingers touched against his chest and without a word he just turned her hand downward and around his back. His other hand caught her coat sleeve, the fabric lush and thick as he used it to lever her closer.</p>
<p>"You had to do it alone."</p>
<p>"No, Gibbs, I didn't." Her argument got stuffed into his chest as he pulled her in, unapologetically crushing her in as both her hands dug into his shirt at the back. She shook her head but it was obviously an internalized movement, the rest of her body burrowing itself in the hug he was offering her. "I shouldn't have."</p>
<p>"You're here now," he told her gently, doing his best not to kiss her hair as he put his cheek to the side of her head. It didn't help that she had purposely drawn her hands inward, palms pressing the sides of his ribcage. "Want some tea?"</p>
<p>She coughed a laugh into the buttons of his shirt, rubbing her face downward as she hugged tighter. Her hands came in entirely and he put one arm around her shoulders, giving in and brushing his lips just barely across her crown. She melted deeper into his chest at that, the almost hint of a moan breathed into fabric as her fingers found the space between one shirt and the other.</p>
<p>He wasn't gonna make it out of this alive. Not if she was going to keep sweetly fiddling with his shirt buttons while she pretended she wasn't crying.</p>
<p>"Did the infamous Jethro Gibbs just ask if I want <em>tea</em>?"</p>
<p>He grinned at the way she'd said it, her voice widely teasing, rounded with affection but still tainted by tears. Her mouth had lifted, chin up, the words warming his cheek. "Tell anyone and I'll deny you were ever here."</p>
<p>"What kind?"</p>
<p>His shrug was mostly in his shoulders and he leaned back, still holding her but most definitely avoiding the urge to kiss her. "What kind do you want?"</p>
<p>"You <em>do</em> surprise me, Gibbs."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>What surprised her even more than the tea was the fact that she was the one to kiss him first and not the other way around. He had given her every cue he could not twenty minutes before that he was going to put his mouth right on hers and yet… he <em>still</em> hadn't.</p>
<p>He had absolutely wanted to, though. She had felt it in his breathing, in his softness, desire had filled the precise circle of protection he had made surrounding her. She couldn't have read him wrong, not after three years of them both dancing up close to it just to step back suddenly.</p>
<p>This hadn't been a step back. He'd just led her farther onto the dance floor.</p>
<p>At least… that was what she was telling herself, obviously.</p>
<p>Because there really wasn't a more cogent reason for why she had fisted her hand up in the center of his shirt and jerked him over her at the counter, mouth on his.</p>
<p>At least… not one she could think of when he very definitively kissed her back, her aggression getting washed under by the desperation of his own.</p>
<p>She wasn't often a fan of the 'damsel in distress' archetype but… It seemed every time she showed up at his door in need he was absolutely the man to help her.</p>
<p>This time, though… It was different. This time she'd <em>wanted</em> him to be the one. She had sought him out for that sense of security and protection.</p>
<p>Which was exactly why she stopped.</p>
<p>"I'm… Sorry." His palms left her and caught the counter edge on either side of her instead, framing her. He flexed his arms straight as he swallowed, though, creating space between them that had been eaten up by their combined want. She was suddenly very warm, the cropped sweater and jeans she had changed into before arriving feeling ten pounds heavier, trapping in the heat he had given over.</p>
<p>"Oh, hell, don't be," she laughed nervously, brushing her palms up her flushed cheeks and into her hair. She felt his eyes lift again even as he kept his distance, that incandescent blue just lighting her up as she tied her hair back with the elastic from around her wrist. She knew he liked her hair down but she was already getting too hot and it wouldn't hurt to leave some space bare as further invitation. "That was exactly what I wanted, Gibbs."</p>
<p>She noted that the tactic had worked when he watched her swallow and brush at the sweat forming along her collarbone. He looked trapped between feral and frustrated as he half rocked forward then back. He wasn't the only one feeling it. And his agitation was fueling hers, had her lifting her hand again to catch his shirt up in her fingers.</p>
<p>"What am I missing, Sloane?"</p>
<p>"I don't want it to just be a matter of making myself feel better." She tugged at the t-shirt beneath the flannel. Her head went back and forth, shaking off any misconceptions. "That's not fair to you."</p>
<p>"Can anyone else make you feel better?" The question was a wash of intentional heat, another swell of warmth that rocked her back and slack along the counter's edge.</p>
<p>"Not likely." She felt herself blush, even as she forced herself to be honest with him. She twisted the cotton tee up in her fingers and felt herself smile so genuinely that her cheeks flared hotter. "You're the one I like."</p>
<p>He nodded a couple times as he smiled, small and thoughtful dips that led to him squinting as he matched her glance. She pulled at him, prying him closer by the twist of fabric. Her worry was starting to sift and dissolve under the swayed way he watched her, his subtle half smirk telling her that any concern she had about him feeling unfairly used or abused was unnecessary. By the time she had him leaning over her at the counter again she knew that he was all in on being emotional caretaker. She liked that about him… the ease with which he could shift from stalwart to sweet.</p>
<p>"Wouldn't have told you to come by if I didn't plan to make you feel a little better," he offered, his hands rising to catch her ribcage on either side. He shrugged and that smirk went innocent, bright, young. "Try to, at least."</p>
<p>"It's not the only reason - "</p>
<p>"You don't need a reason." He dropped his hands away to punctuate the point, shaking his head just enough to draw her attention to his face.</p>
<p>Jack watched him shift, his features more pensive as he grabbed at the kettle a little early, just as steam started teasing its way out. His right hand settled to the counter beside the mugs he'd drawn out and she reached for it without thinking. Her fingers wrapped his wrist, subconsciously keeping their connection while she rubbed her fingertips up under the cuff of his shirt sleeve. She pressed his pulse, watching him pour two mugs before setting the kettle back and turning bright eyes her way.</p>
<p>"Not to come here," he continued what he'd been saying, dropping his glance to where she was rubbing the inside of his wrist. "Door is always open for you, Jack."</p>
<p>"You don't think you'll regret that decision?"</p>
<p>Her question didn't seem to concern him as he shook his head and dropped tea bags into both mugs. "Nope."</p>
<p>The casual alacrity of his response warmed her as he shifted back her way, made her feel even more secure in the solace he could, and <em>would</em>, provide her. But the way he looked at her after saying it… It was more than just friendship cementing his decision. It was a subtle offer of intimacy, underscored by the way his glance dropped from her eyes to her mouth. Jack couldn't help the smirk it triggered but the little bite of her bottom lip was completely intentional.</p>
<p>She knew what he liked. She wasn't above using that knowledge to her advantage as he stepped close again. "Succinct. I like that."</p>
<p>"I know you do," he told her. Obviously, they were a matched set, then. A pair. And he said it so confidently that she felt her temperature instantly rise back up again, cheeks getting flushed as he tipped his head and smiled. "Gonna let me make you feel better?"</p>
<p>"How do you plan to do that?" she asked, humming a questioning noise after.</p>
<p>He seemed to consider it a moment, his mouth suddenly closer to hers than she had realized. Jack lifted her head just enough to brush her nose against his, getting a full groan out of him that was unexpectedly gentle and genuine. Instead of letting her carry it further he turned his mouth and kissed her cheek, right hand rising to lightly catch her throat. It was a move made to still her there, to keep her from drawing back when he didn't kiss her like she wanted.</p>
<p>It was so <em>Gibbs</em> that it almost hurt.</p>
<p>And the grin he gave her was so devilish that she felt herself reflexively melt closer. "Earl Grey and the Bilson case file."</p>
<p><em>Son of a bitch... </em>She should have seen that coming.</p>
<p>"Oh, <em>Gibbs</em>, how romantic," Jack cooed at him playfully, the tone turning into actual sudden laughter as he reached aside and grabbed up a copy of the same file he had provided earlier in the day. Sneaky shit. Jack shook her head in acceptance and took the paperwork. She tugged it into her chest, brow arched as he gave her a purposely impish smirk. "You're a real Casanova, ya know?"</p>
<p>"As someone is so fond of saying," he teased, kissing gently on her lips just before filling both hands with two steaming mugs. "My methods work."</p>
<p>"Yeah," she half grumbled, feeling a smile curve her mouth as she leaned forward after him. The file folder went out between them sharply, thwacking him soundly on the ass and drawing a chuckle out of him as he walked away. "I bet they do."</p>
<p>"You'll see."</p>
<p>She damn well hoped so.</p>
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